


NIGHTS IN PINK SATIN

by Wolfiekins



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adult Content, Boyshorts, Established Relationship, Groping, Kinks, M/M, Male Slash, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Content, Season/Series 05, Sibling Incest, Sibling Love, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-10
Updated: 2014-12-10
Packaged: 2018-02-28 21:16:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2747369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfiekins/pseuds/Wolfiekins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam  puts the finger on Dean's newest kink.  </p><p>WARNINGS:  Slash, Wincest, Adult Language & Situations, Mild Kinks, Humor</p>
            </blockquote>





	NIGHTS IN PINK SATIN

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: I do not own the SUPERNATURAL franchise nor any of the characters. No monies made nor offense intended.
> 
> Title derived from the classic tune by The Moody Blues. Major thanks to Bru for discouraging hyphen abuse and educating me about em-dashes, and to Dream for the boyshorts & Sam's huge ass.
> 
> Takes place early in season five, sometime after 5x04 "The End". Fits into my DARK ROADS 'verse.

 

 

“Man, I'm getting too old for this shit,” Dean says, bursting into their motel room and flicking on the lights. “That was one crazy-ass vamp.” He dumps his duffle on the floor and shrugs out of his jacket before Sam even enters the room.

“She was something, that's for sure,” Sam agrees, closing and dead-bolting the door. “Are you okay? You took a helluva tumble back there.”

Dean nods, gingerly touching the scratches to the left side of his face. “Yeah. These better not scar, man.”

“Don't think they'll scar, Dean. They're not deep enough.”

“I didn't know those press-on nails could do so much damage.”

“Her fingernails were real,” Sam says around a smirk as he lays his jacket on the bed. “Pretty weird, since she was a licensed manicurist.”

“Then there oughta be a law against 'em if they're _that_ long.” Dean stretches, rolling his shoulders and bending down to touch his toes. “Those Asian nail places need some serious regulation—”

“Hey, dude, you've ripped the crap out of your jeans,” Sam interrupts, staring at the swell of Dean's squarish ass. “Musta happened when the vamp tossed you down that embankment.”

“Shit, really? These are my favorites.” Dean moves in front of the mirror over the low dresser to get a better view. “Fucking bitch! If she weren't already dead, I'd kill 'er.” He pokes a pair of thick fingers in the sizable rip. “Man, no way these can be fixed.”

Sam steps closer, bending down and leaning in to peer at the tear. “Uh, Dean, what the—”

Dean immediately quits fussing with his jeans. “Well, no use cryin' over ripped clothes. Think I'm gonna jump in the shower first, if you don't mind.” He hooks a thumb over his shoulder and backs toward the bathroom as if a hellhound were on his tail.

“Hang on a minute,” Sam calls out. "Not so fast."

“What?”

Sam catches up just as Dean's about to lunge into the bathroom. "Let's see what's goin' on here," Sam says, clamping a hand on Dean's shoulder and turning him around to examine the rip.

“Man, I just wanna hose off, okay?” Dean protests, trying to squirm away.

“Wait a sec.” Sam bends down, pulling at the torn denim and probing inside it a moment. The next instant, he slides his entire hand into the rent.

"Whoa!"

"Dean—"

Dean bucks his hips, dislodging Sam's hand. “Dude, I _know_ I've got a sweet ass, but—”

“Are you wearing pink underwear?”

Dean whirls around, shrugging. “Hell no. Well, yeah. I mean, I goofed up the laundry the last time I did it. That red Henley of mine got mixed up with the whites—”

“You don't wear whities, bro. Besides, those aren't cotton.”

“They're not?”

“They felt like satin, dude.”

“Satin. Satin? No way.” Dean sputters, planting his hands on his hips. He stares at Sam for a long moment before throwing up his arms. “Fine. Ya got me.” He unbuttons and unzipps his jeans, carefully pushing them down and stepping out of them. “Go ahead, get your licks in.”

Sam goggles at the sight of his over-compensating, macho brother sporting what were clearly ladies' panties. _Pink_ panties. They resemble men's Speedos, but are cut just a tad larger. But definitely ladies' panties, minus the tiny roses for decoration. Sam knows he's grinning from ear to ear, but can't help it. The panties actually look pretty damn good on Dean, accenting the swell of his bulge rather nicely.

And they left _nothing_ to the imagination.

Nothing.

Which wasn't a problem _at all_.

“Uh, wow. I'd have never guessed that you'd get into that sort of thing.”

Dean shrugs. “Rhonda Hurley.”

“Who?”

“Rhonda Hurley. Some chick I chased after when I was nineteen. Before she'd let me fuck her, she made me wear her panties.” He scratches at his belly, staring at the carpet. “And I kinda liked it.”

“Okay—”

“I sorta thought of her the other day, Rhonda, and remembered... stuff. About how good they felt. Ya know. And since we're not getting any younger, and it being the Apocalypse and all, why not grab onto whatever feels good, right?”

Sam nodds, totally at a loss.

“So when you went to the courthouse to track down vamp bitch yesterday, I decided to go on another kind of hunt.” Dean bristles at Sam's obviously bemused expression. “What?”

“I'm just having trouble picturing you lurking around the lingerie section at Wal-Mart.”

“Screw that place, man. If I'm gonna do something, I do it right. These are boyshorts from Victoria's Secret.”

“Yeah, of course. Boyshorts. That makes all the difference.”

“Hey, I'd like to see _you_ in a chick's store, shopping for that huge ass of yours. I had to guess the size, 'cause I sure as hell couldn't slip into a fitting room to try anything on.”

“But guys shop there _all_ the time, Dean. The place caters to men buying stuff for women.”

“Exactly. But not _men_ buying stuff for _themselves_.”

“You'd be surprised.”

Dean pulls a face. “Whatever. Anyway, I told the saleslady these were for my _girl_ friend. I hate fuckin' mall clerks, though. They always try to upsell and push other stuff.”

Sam steps closer, unable to conceal his giggles. “Wow,” he repeats. “So you didn't go ahead and get that black lace teddy after all?”

“Fuck off, Sasquatch,” Dean shots back. “These are really comfortable. And you're one to talk. Who is it that gets all bitchy when they miss _Project Runway_?” He turns to duck into the bathroom again, but Sam snags his arm.

“No, man, it's cool, really. I'm laughing because you thought that you had to hide... this... from me.”

Dean eyes Sam as if he'd sprouted horns. “You're not grossed out?”

“I'm not sure if pink's your color,” Sam says, slowly turning Dean around to get a good look at his backside, “but they sure make your ass look hotter than ever.” He runs his hand over the firm curve of Dean's butt. “Wow. Silky smooth.”

“Alright, that's enough,” Dean snarls, jerking his ass from Sam's hand.

“C'mon, don't be so sensitive.” Sam grabs Dean, sliding his hands down Dean's torso, pausing a second before clamping them onto Dean's satin-clad hips.

“They _are_ pretty smooth,” Dean admits, staring at the ceiling fan. “And I like 'em 'cause they don't have all that frilly stuff or fake little roses all over 'em."

“Well, I like 'em, too.” One of Sam's hands strays to trace the lump of Dean's arousal. “They're hot on you, man.” Sam pulls him in tight, pushing his own hardening cock to Dean's. “Really hot.”

“I guess I shoulda shown you sooner,” Dean breathes, leaning in to suckle the base of Sam's neck. “I had no idea they'd be such a turn on.”

“Mmmm, yeah, they _definitely_ are,” Sam growls. “And it's totally cool. Everyone's got their kinks.”

“Yeah? Like you have any?” Dean murmurs, thrusting his hips into Sam while kneading Sam's ass with both hands.

“Let's just say that it's a total bitch to find pantyhose in my size,” Sam replies before capturing Dean's lips in a scorching kiss.

 

**_~~~~~~~ fin ~~~~~~~_ **


End file.
